


Time Jumper

by Fiction_stories



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Legilimency, M/M, Magic, Muggles, Occlumency, Riddle at Hogwarts Era, Romance, Slow Build, Spells & Enchantments, The Deathly Hallows, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-07 23:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17375243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiction_stories/pseuds/Fiction_stories
Summary: When Harry is hit with the killing curse he makes a wish that will completely change the course of the war and history, he now must fight a different war while adapting to his new life and trying to master his powers as well as raising a young Dark Lord. Will Harry be able to change Fate for the better or is he directing the world of magic on a dark and dangerous path, after all, bad things happen to Wizards who mess with time.





	1. AUTHOR NOTE

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, I'm a new writer and have been thinking of stories for a long time but only decided to begin writing recently, I decided to start with fanfiction to improve my writing. I hope you enjoy the story, I enjoyed writing it. hope it doesn't suck too much. If I've made mistakes please tell me, I'd love to get feedback to help me improve my structure, sentence fluency etc. Thanks, xx 
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all Characters related do not belong to me, they are works belonging to J.k Rowling.

Hi everyone, I'm sorry for being MIA for so long.  
I've decided to re-do all chapters and shall be posting multiple chapters soon.  
I'll update as much as I can.  
Hopefully, life won't get in the way.  
Thanks  
Fiction_Stories!

update: chapter 1 is now up!


	2. From the Future

Harry stood in the clearing of the forbidden forest. He was bloody beaten and bruised, he’d pretty much been to hell and back, but the worst was yet to come. Now, the battle he’d been fighting for the last seven years was going to end. He was going to die.

Harry faced Voldemort and his followers, his body tense, brow sheen with sweat, and blood on his face. Voldemort had turned as Harry approached and now he was looking at Harry speculatively. Harry had ironed his will after talking to his parents, Sirius and Remus using the stone. All the family he had gone, his chest pained at the thought. Standing there in front of Voldemort felt wrong, it felt like surrender but it wasn’t, it was another step to his downfall. Harry just didn’t like the idea of giving the man the satisfaction of killing him, he was too proud and would usually lash out first chance he got. But not right now, now he was calm he looked solemn, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing any fear in him, Harry didn’t feel any for a moment. It was like some part of him wanted it to be over and done with already. Then Voldemort spoke up,

“Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Come to die?” Harry breathed deeply and entered himself then closed his eyes, Voldemort’s face twisted into a snarl as he pulled his arm back, pointing his wand at Harry. Time moved slowly in the moments before Voldemort’s arm moved forward as yelled “Avada Kedavra!” The green lighting, burst from his wand and hit Harry squarely in the chest, The world around Harry vanished from sense. Harry cracked his eyes open to see a pure white light, the first thing that went through his mind was the idea of heaven and the white light at the end of the tunnel. He stood up and looked around, where was he? The place was bare as far as he could see, but his eyes caught something under a bench, he approached it slowly ‘what is that?’ Harry thought as he walked closer and he tilted his head to get a better view. Only when he knelt on one knee beside the bench and looked under did he see it properly. Harry recoiled immediately, repulsed by the baby like form. It was bloody and wheezing and looked grotesque. Harry winced just looking at it until he heard “Harry,” Harry turned to see Dumbledore, the old professor was standing there in white robes and Harry was shocked, happy and confused all at the same time.

Harry thought he might’ve felt anger, frustration or resentment towards him after what he saw in Snape’s memories. But he didn’t, he felt nothing, just nostalgia at seeing his professor, his old friend. Now Harry sat next to Dumbledore on one of the white benches in the place Harry had labeled as _‘a cleaner version of Kings Cross station.’_ It was comfortable but Harry knew he couldn’t stay there forever.

“I have to go back haven’t I?” Harry asked looking towards his headmaster for advice, but he expected the answer to be yes, why let seven years go to waste?

“Oh, that is up to you,” Dumbledore replied still looking ahead. Usually, Dumbledore would’ve given Harry guidance or encouraged certain actions like with Sirius’ escape, the Triwizard tournament, and watching his death. Now, everything was up to Harry.

“I have a choice ?” Harry questioned, it had always felt like he never had one, like there was only one option for him, to fight. His life had been a constant battle since the day Voldemort scarred him. “Oh yes.” Stated Dumbledore, looking thoughtful he said “We are in kings cross you say? I think if you so desired you would be able to board a train.”

The message was clear, the train would be Harry's choice. “And where would it take me ?” If he can't decide on the answer, where does that leave him? Will he go back? Or would he remind dead, leaving the war in the hands of someone else? Which didn’t feel like an option to Harry.

Dumbledore leaned toward Harry “On.” He stood up and walked away from Harry a little. Harry was still sitting on the bench in thought. 

‘Where do I want to go? Back to the war?'  He remembered everyone who had died and suffered, his friends, his family. “I’d like to go back, to be honest, and stop the war before it even began,” He whispered, so no one suffers, so no one dies. But that wasn’t an option, how cruel, once again he really did only have one choice, he had to go back. He looked back to the professor

“Professor, Voldemort has the elder wand.” The most powerful wand in the world, the one Dumbledore owned, the wand that Voldemort killed Professor Snape for. The situation felt hopeless but that was what Harry was used to, fighting against the odds was what Harry had always thrived on and he’d always come through.

“True.” He acknowledged. It seemed to be of no consequence, Dumbledore after all had the elder wand but was defeated, but then again his defeat had been intentional. Dumbledore had defeated the person owning the elder wand before him so there was at least a chance.

“And the snake is still alive,” Harry continued, their situation was bad, the elder wand and the last Horcrux. Harry knew it, but Dumbledore didn't seem worried, he looked like he had the answer like he always did.

“Yes.” He responded matter of factly,

“And I've nothing to kill it with.” They didn’t have the sword. Dumbledore faced Harry with his hands together in front of him,

“Help will always be given at Hogwarts Harry, to those who ask for it.” Dumbledore looked at Harry through his spectacles his eyes twinkling. “I’ve always prided myself on my ability to turn a phrase. Words are in my not so humble opinion our most exhaustible form of magic capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it. But I would, in this case, amend my original stamens to this: help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who deserve it.” The professor had said that to Harry is his second year when he went into the Chamber of Secrets and faced Tom Riddle- _‘Of Course! I killed the diary Horcrux with the basilisk fang!’_

“Do not pity the dead Harry, pity the living,” he advised Harry, “and above all those who live without love.” The last part made Harry think of Voldemort, had he ever had anyone in his life at all?

Was he just as alone on the bottom as he was on the top? “Professor!" Harry stood "my mother’s patrons was a doe, wasn’t it? That's the same as Professor Snape’s. It’s curious don't you think ?” Harry queried, he had his suspicions. The Patronus spell was after all affected by the emotions and memories of the user. Dumbledore looked at Harry and responded

“Actually if I think about it,” he contemplated “it doesn’t seem curious at all.” he answered Harry with a knowing tone in his voice as if the answer to the question was obvious, “I’ll be going now, Harry,” Dumbledore stated as walked away.

“Professor, is this all real? Or is it just happening inside my head?” Harry called out after him, was he really seeing him right now or was this just some made up hallucination his deathly state had provided. Dumbledore turned to Harry

“Of course it's happening inside your head Harry, why should that mean it's not real.” To Harry, it felt real, even if it wasn’t.

“Professor?” he called out after him “what should I do now?” The noise from, the train became louder and Harry’s senses returned. He stayed still, but he could still hear the train and he shot up confused, his head pounded and he felt faint, he put his hand in his head for a moment before looking around wildly. His sight was blurry, confused; he took off his glasses to check them and found he could see perfectly without them. Harry didn’t understand what was going on. What happened to the forest? Voldemort? And where was his wand? Where was he? It was familiar, like he was just here, “No, it couldn’t be-.” He thought disbelievingly. Harry's head twisted looking over the platform until his eyes met a sign above the stairs **‘King’s Cross Train Station’**. What the hell. No way, This couldn’t be happening. He got up, stumbled before quickly catching his footing and jogged up the stairs. Harry stepped on to the surface and there were people bustling around him, he was in London. Harry’s shoulders sagged and his brows knit together. He felt like he was really dead now and this was his afterlife, or maybe he was just plain hallucinating again. Even so, it felt so real. He decided not to wallow in misery at his odd and confusing situation and get moving.

He walked the city, it was definitely London but it was different at the same time. As he passed a newsagent his eyes caught a newspaper a man was reading. With his now corrected vision, he could see to perfectly, it was The Daily Mail, he glanced at the date in the top corner wondering if it was still the same day and balked. _‘May 2nd, 1937’ ‘What? That must be an old paper,’_ Harry assured himself. He approached the shop but couldn’t find any other paper. When he asked the shop keeper if he had today's paper the shop keeper had said:

 _“That is today’s paper.”_ With a confused expression.

 _‘What?’_ Harry blinked back at the man before turning his back to him and just stared at everything around him taking it all in. He looked around the old fashioned clothes, the old cars and the extremely dated look of the buildings around him. His stomach did a little flip and Harry swallowed a lump in his throat, his mind was racing _'Am I really here? This doesn’t make any sense. How could I be in 1937?.’_ Harry couldn’t understand how this had happened, he checked with some people on the street it was definitely 1937.

He walked for ages, not caring where he was going, trying to process what in Merlin’s name was happening. Harry snapped out of his stupor and looked around, to see a familiar building. Its Gothic style was one he had seen before. Harry's blood ran cold when he realised where he was. His eyes scanned the sign **‘Wool’s Orphanage’** his stomach flipped. Harry felt dread creep up his spine as his own words echoed in his head _“I’d like to go back, to be honest, and stop the war before it even began,”_ He made a pained expression and looked away, this wasn’t what he had meant. Regret and anger coiled in his chest. He wasn’t sure how yet but he was no doubt responsible, and now he was in 1937, at Wool’s Orphanage where an eleven-year-old to be Dark Lord resided.

“Bloody Hell.”

 

* * *

 

 

Harry sat on a bench, with his head in his hands going through what had happened. He used the resurrection stone, got hit with the killing curse, met Dumbledore in his afterlife and then woke up 61 years in the past. If he was right then Tom Riddle would be eleven years old and has met Dumbledore. His hands fisted his hair. _‘Ugh! Why the bloody hell is this happening!’_ He sat back and sighed looking at the blue, cloudless sky. Harry heard some people murmuring about how he looked _‘what is he wearing?’ ‘is that blood?!’_  Harry looked over himself, his appearance wasn’t ideal so he made his way to a public bathroom and cleaned up.

Harry washed his face and looked himself over, his eyes stood out even more without his glasses. The scar on his head had faded somewhat, which he was grateful for. He hadn’t had a proper chance to look at himself the last year, he looked a little different. His cheekbones had developed more and his hair had grown longer, his skin was pale and gaunt from the war. His muscles felt tense and exhausted. His mind even more so.

Harry put his hands either side of the sink and looked down into it while in thought, he should go to Gringotts, explain his situation and see if there are any funds he can access. Nothing from his parents as they haven’t even been born, maybe he was still eligible as a Black, probably not as the family was still alive and Sirius hadn’t been born either. Harry suddenly regretted not checking out his lineage, he doesn’t even know who his grandparents are. Better later than never.

Harry finally reached the leaky cauldron after a few hours of walking, he was worn out but he was used to it. It was still a dingy looking pub, Harry walked into the dark Tudor styled dining area, where people were eating, drinking and chatting. The smell of alcohol was as strong as ever. Harry passed by some of the tables and chairs, focused on getting into the alley he didn’t realise he had caught someone's eye. He reached the brick wall and hoped that the way in was the same, he raised his fist to the wall and knocked on the brick _‘from the trash can, two across and three up’_ he remembered Hagrid telling him years ago.

The bricks fell away, leaving an arch for Harry to walk through. He let a breath out in relief, he hadn’t been sure whether the password was the same after all this time. Harry walked into the bustle of people, surprisingly crowded for May. He was usually in Hogwarts during this time. It made him wonder how often people come here, it was probably more accurate to describe it as the Oxford street of the wizarding world, people come here for work, shopping, socialising and not just for Hogwarts shopping. Some shops were familiar to Harry but others were different, he could see spell books, quills, and odd assortments from apothecary shops, _‘still the same in some ways'._ Finally, he stopped in front of the milky white building which loomed over the other buildings in the area, his hand traced the words engraved on the large bronze doors.

“Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn,

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.”

Harry smirked, thinking of how he had broken in with Hermione and Ron. It was a disaster but it made him feel nostalgic. He actually pitied the dragon if he thought about it, its wings were in tatters. _‘The idea of breaking into Gringotts in this time would be considered a joke.’_ It had been a joke in his time too until Quirrel or Voldemort had broken into Gringotts in his first year. At the time his reasoning was if Voldemort could do it, so could he.

He realised he was lingering in the entrance and reached for the door, he jumped when it swung open and he was face to face with a pale skinned man who had steely grey eyes and long platinum blonde hair. Harry inwardly cringed _‘Malfoy.’_ Or at least someone who looked a lot like him, with his pointed features and high cheekbones as well as an arrogant face that made Harry want to punch him.

“Get out of my way, you fool.” He snarled as he pushed past Harry. This was definitely a Malfoy, with that snide obnoxious attitude that made them think they were better than everyone else. He wondered why Malfoy’s thought like that. Were they raised that way or did they all just have a predisposition to being a prick. When Harry didn’t move and stood his ground, whether he was lost in thought or it was his Gryffindor pride that refused to budge

the man snarled and pushed past him and muttered "filthy mud blood." It took all of Harry's self-control just to not react to that word but he did give the finger to him behind his back. He suppressed a shudder, feeling repulsed as the memory of what happened to Hermione resurfaced. He should’ve killed Bellatrix when he had the chance.

As Harry made his way to the Head Goblin he tried to posture himself with confidence. Harry didn’t know what to say, all he can really do is tell the truth. Unfortunately, the truth sounds crazy. He stood in front of the Goblin, waiting to be noticed, which didn’t seem like any time soon. “Um, hi,” he greeted lamely. He felt a little awkward and embarrassed now. He wasn’t sure what to do. He took a breath and called on his inner Slytherin. Harry stood straight and looked the Goblin in the eye. The Goblin sat up and intertwined his fingers on the desk introns of him and looked down at Harry.

“Can I help you?” He drawled, reminding Harry a little too much of Snape. Harry could never stand Snape’s attitude towards him. It always felt unfair to be judged by someone he hadn’t even met. Harry tilted his head up and leaned in closer to the Goblin.

“Well I need to speak to you in private, it’s an urgent matter.” Harry provided while looking at the Goblin seriously. Urgent didn’t even come close, He was in the middle of a war and after being hit by the killing curse was rocketed back in time 61 years, where a child dark lord was.

“Do you have an appointment?” The Goblin questioned, eyeing Harry. Harrys attire was odd for the time, it was strange for a wizard to be wearing muggle clothing un; unless they were Muggle-born, but Muggle-borns rarely to the bank.

“Well, no -” Harry was cut off by the sharp tone of the Goblin

“Then book one and come back for it.” The Goblin was patronising him and this irked Harry greatly. He wasn’t some child that needed to be placated. Harry had had to deal with that his whole life by everyone, the only person who treated him like an adult had been Sirius.

“Can I book one now then?” He asked trying to keep his tone in check. The Goblin flicked his hand and a parchment flew off his desk into Harry's hands. Harry looked it over, it was to book an appointment and it asked for his personal information and it cost money.

“Listen, I said it’s urgent. I can’t fill this out and I can’t wait until you are ready to see me, I need an appointment now!” Harry said trying to make the Goblin understand, The Goblin didn’t look convinced and he bared his teeth at Harry.

“Unfortunately for you, I don't have the time to cater to the whims of every child that walks in demanding an appointment. If you can’t wait then I am afraid you are out of luck” he said practically growling his words. The Goblins attention turned back to his work, dismissing Harry. Harry grit his teeth and balled his fists. He didn’t have time for this, he needs to get his situation sorted so he could figure out what the hell to do. A chill radiated from Harry and quickly spread throughout the room, the breath the Goblin let out as he looked back to Harry came out as a white puff. All the Goblins in the room looked at Harry in shock and fear. The head Goblin stared at Harry intently, regarding him with a slight bit of fear.

“I'm sorry if I seem like a demanding child but that's what my situation calls for, I need an appointment and I need it now, so I suggest you make time.” Harry was supposed how the words rolled off his tongue, it wasn’t like him to act like this but he didn’t have a choice. Harry's voice had a dangerous edge to it, his green eyes radiated with powers and almost glowed. The Goblin frowned and looked around to see windows frosted over, lights above flickering and the other Goblins shivering and looked wide-eyed at Harry, but Harry was oblivious to what he was doing, all he noticed was the change in the Goblins demeanour. The goblin hopped off his chair and turned to Harry

“Follow me” the Goblin practically growled at him, with teeth bared. The Goblin was angry, Harry had the gall to come into his bank, without going through proper procedure demanding his time and then threatened him with that magic.  _'What kind of Wizard has magic like that, magic that's so cold and draining almost like a dementor?'_ He eyed Harry suspiciously. Harry was looking at the floor with a frown on his face while following the Goblin. They reached a large double door made of oak. The office was coloured in shoes of brown and beige. There was a large brown desk in the back with leather chairs, and a bookshelf on the surrounding walls. It was a vintage styled office but was stylish. Harry sat on the chair by the unlit fireplace. The Goblin sat on his desk chair across from Harry and flicked some documents into their place. Harry twiddled his thumbs nervously, the Goblin looked at Harry

“Well now that you’ve come into my bank and demanded an appointment and threatened me, in front of other customers and my workers. What do you want.” The Goblin growled with a look that seemed like it could burn holes through people. Harry faltered at the Goblins words, and he rubbed the back of his neck and apologised

“I am sorry for that, but my situation is dire, and I'm desperate.” The Goblin frowned, not quite expecting Harry to apologise or at least not to do so sincerely. He began tapping his fingernails on the wooden desk.

“Yes, and what, exactly, is this urgent situation.” He questioned Harry suspiciously. Harry's mouth opened and closed again and his brow furrowed, trying to find the words to explain. However, the goblin didn’t have much patience for him “well?!” he snapped impatiently.

Harry face scrunched and he just sighed _‘may as well just be straightforward’_ he thought. “Well long story short, I'm from the future.” The Goblin raised his eyebrow in disbelief, as Harry continued “About 61 years to be more exact. Which is why I came for help.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly looking at his lap and glanced back up to the Goblin who’s eyes were narrowed analysing him, Harry's eyes silently begging him to believe him.

“Let's say I believe you,” Harry's eyes lit up at the words “hypothetically,” Harry's shoulders slumped but he nodded solemnly. Harry’s Gryffindor side showed, wearing his emotions on his sleeve. “Who exactly are you?” The Goblin inquired, he must be at least a Half-Blood or a Pure Blood to have come here for help.

“Harry Potter.” He stated. He certainly looked like a Potter, with his messy raven hair, and his face shape, although he had slightly softer features compared to most Potters but still had high cheekbones, and his vibrant green eyes were not a Potter trait. He would find out whether Harry’s claim or not was true soon enough. As he went to proceed Harry spoke up again “Sorry, I never asked your name?” The goblin looked up at Harry surprised but his face quickly fell back into a blank mask. It was very rare for a wizard to ask or even care about a Goblin.

“I am Grinnok.” Harry smiled and the goblin felt himself being drawn into confusion again by the young wizard “On to the matter at hand,” He said as he flicked his hand. A parchment flew out of his drawer and landed on the desk in front of Harry, the Goblin picked up a dagger and quill and put them either side of the parchment. “This is probably one of the only ways to prove what you claim. Write your name with the blood quill” Harry shuddered at that Grinnok although curious chose to ignore it “and place a few drops of blood on the parchment.” Harry picked up the quill and wrote his name, wincing at the burning sensation on his hand. Throwing down the pen with disgust, he picked up the dagger and cut a small incision on his thumb and let a few drops of blood drip on to the paper, and put his thumb in his mouth, sucking on the small wound. The blood was absorbed by the paper and spread from the centre to the edge of the page in a ripple forming crimson coloured words where it passed. Harry peered at the words, taking his thumb out of his mouth as he picked up the page.

INHERITANCE TEST OF: Harry Potter

NAME: HARRY POTTER

TITLE: MASTER OF THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

BORN: JULY 31 1980

AGE: 17

GENDER: MALE

SPECIES: HUMAN

BLOOD STATUS: HALF-BLOOD

PARENTS: LILY J. POTTER (NÉE EVANS) AND JAMES POTTER

GODFATHER: SIRIUS ORION BLACK

TEMPORARY GUARDIANS: PETUNIA AND VERNON DURSLEY

HEIRSHIPS: 

POTTER, BLACK (INDIRECT), PEVERELL

INHERITANCES:

POTTER FAMILY VAULT — #000958 - 1,198,256 G, 176 S, 242 K/ Multiple artefacts and books

POTTER TRUST FUND (UNAVAILABLE)

BLACK FAMILY VAULT (UNAVAILABLE)

BLACK TRUST (UNAVAILABLE)

PEVERELL FAMILY VAULT #000323 — 377,976 G, 651 S, 213 K / MULTIPLE ARTEFACTS AND BOOKS

PEVERELL VAULT #000254 — 657,232 G, 269 S, 451 K / MULTIPLE ARTEFACTS AND BOOKS

PROPERTIES:

POTTER MANOR: CHESHIRE, ENGLAND

POTTER CHALET: VAL D’IVRESS, FRANCE

POTTER TOWNHOUSE: LONDON

POTTER VILLA: SOTOGRANDE, SPAIN   

BLACK (UNAVAILABLE)  

PEVERELL TOWNHOUSE: TOWNHOUSE 3, DIAGON ALLEY, LONDON

PEVERELL MANOR: SOMERSET, ENGLAND

PEVERELL VILLA: LAKE GARDA, ITALY

PEVERELL COTTAGE: GODRIC’S HOLLOW

Harry gaped at the document, then blinked a few times as if he wasn’t seeing correctly. _‘Holy shit.’_


End file.
